


Lone Lion and Cub: Hellbent

by goldandbeloved



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blood Play, Body Worship, Bondage, Boot Worship, Chains, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s, Daddy Kink, Daddy/girl, Dominance, DominantCersei, DominantJaime, Edgeplay, Erotic Dance, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tales, Feral, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Frottage, Genderplay, Het and Slash, Imprisonment, In Public, Kink, Knife Play, Leather Fetish, Lemon Cakes, Love, Lust, M/S, Male Dominance, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Multi, Needle play, OT3, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other, Outdoor Sex, Pack Dynamics, Penetration, Pet Play, Petplay, Piercing, Polyamory, Pre-OT3, Predator/Prey, Public Sex, Queer Het, Romance, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Snuggling, Submission, Tenderness, Threesome, Top Drop, Transgression, True Love, Twincest, Whipping, blade fetish, boot fetish, chivalric fetishism, erotic humiliation, gold and beloved, lannister fetish, lemon cakes are aftercare, little cub, ménage à trois, permanent marking, play piercing, queer, red sister, the wolf girl who longed for the sun, voyuerism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:31:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandbeloved/pseuds/goldandbeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, How They Traveled To Casterly Rock</p><p> </p><p>A Companion Piece to The Wolf-Girl Who Longed for the Sun, detailing the Most Curious Adventures of Ser and His Own Cub on the way to Casterly Rock. Filled with Salacious Detail, Lewdnesse, Questionable Behaviour and Reckless Abandon, Serving As Warning, As Instruction or As Enjoyment. If the Reader Is Noble of Thoughts, Desires to Keep One's  Gentilesse and a Pure Temprament, Please Read Elsewhere so as to Remain Unsullied and Edify Oneself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue, Or Bill of Fare To The Feast

Ser Jaime Lannister strides into the main hall of Casterly Rock, golden hair matted with the sweat and dirt of the road, turning it to spikes and curls of beaten gold. Bloodied scratches on his face emphasize the elegant angle of his cheekbones and the wildfire green of his eyes.

His clothing is muddied and dirtied from travel though his black boots seem curiously bright for one who has travelled so far. He carries a white-wrapped bundle in his arms and once he’s over the threshold slowly uncovers his burden. 

The milk-white cloak falls to the floor, revealing a girl with fiery red hair, skin pearl-pale, eyes closed in pleasure. She’s clad in red scraps of cloth, bracelets jingling on her wrists and ankles, both also decorated with twists of scratchy, heavy rope, rendering her incapable of movement. Bells and ribbons are twined into her hair, an observer could note the faint scratches of SJL over her left breast and around her neck she wears a simple strap of red leather embossed with a gold lion, worn and loved. Her eyes open; the sapphire blue of a cloudless sky, the bright sea outside the windows and she can taste salt on the air and on her lips. She looks up at her Ser, smiling.

“Welcome home.” he growls, covering her lips with a kiss, her biting back at him as his tongue pushes into her mouth, sliding into her. She tips her head back, squirming in his arms, licking and biting at him hungrily. He growls back as she nips at his lip, drawing a tiny drop of blood. 

“Naughty cub.” he snarls, flinging her over his shoulder, carrying her off to see her ancestral home, a growl and giggle of excitement remaining in the air after he’s gone.

One of the servants picks up the snowy cloak, not even noticing the tiny red stain on it. He’ll want it later.


	2. Prelude: Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark.
> 
> Surprise.
> 
> Beauty.

Sansa is stretched out on the bed, her hands by her sides, her eyes covered with a dark cloth. She’s been stripped of her dress and is in a chemise, one of the palest, thinnest ones she has, revealing every curve of her hips, her breasts, her long legs.

“Such a pretty girl.” she hears an unfamiliar voice say, feels strange pairs of hands on her, rolling her chemise over her waist. “Someone’s been very good.” Sansa quivers at the way they feel, moving over her legs and belly, appraising her. “Open.” says a woman’s voice, with a lyrical liquid accent.

Sansa opens her legs, feels fingers brushing at her, probing her. There are a few words in an unknown tongue followed by a chuckle. “He’ll enjoy this.” says one voice, then purring “So will you.”

She catches a familiar scent; lemon, sugar, maybe a little honey and despite herself, her mouth waters. “Hold still.” There’s a gumminess and stickiness in the hair over her cunt, then a quick pull, a vicious sting. Despite herself. Sansa lets out a tiny yelp. “Shhh.” whispers one of the gentle voices, cool hands on her forehead, stroking her as the next wave of pain comes. It’s not as bad this time and curiosity leaves Sansa tingling. “Breathe in.” whispers the gentle voice, stroking her cheek, toying with her earlobes, the side of her neck, Sansa sighing at this touch, relaxing into it. There’s another flurry of unknown words and a soft, gentle laugh. “They say that you might grow to like this.” 

Sansa can’t help it but giggles too, then as she does there’s another pull and tug. Her skin stings. “There.” She leans into the cool hands caressing her neck, feels them move up, massaging up her neck, over her scalp in small circles. The tiny stings between her legs barely even register in the middle of this pleasure, these firm and delicate fingers caressing her head.  
Sansa wonders if she could even fall asleep during this; she thinks of Ser switching her thighs while she squeals and yowls, him flinging her down to the straw to fuck her, then the way she grips him tightly so that her thighs burn more, mirror the bruising he’s giving her inside...

and Sansa is asleep after all, the stings not even mattering. Since she is good, her hair is still stroked, the ends stroked with oil, her hands rubbed, her cunt given a cool compress.

“Hands and knees.” Sansa hears a voice whispering in her ear, waking her. Sansa is obedient, finding her head moved into someone’s lap, cool silk on her cheek, scent of musk and flowers. She feels the cheeks of her ass being pulled open, the warm stickiness sliding there too. Sansa blushes. “Oh yes.” murmurs the one still stroking her hair. “Here, too.” Sansa hears another warm chuckle. “Perhaps you have more surprises coming, pretty girl.”

She does; there’s a cool bath, she’s dried off and then her eyes open as they take the cloth and the packets of herbs from her eyes. Sansa’s eyes adjust to the dim light, the mirror. Her oiled hair gleams like garnets, the light playing off each shimmering strand. She looks pale and beautiful, but the curiosity is between her legs. She looks, marveling; her mound is high and rounded, full and lovely, like a pearl. Her outer lips are soft and curved and her inner lips flare red and bright as coral. Sansa’s mind is a mix; she’s never seen her cunt so exposed, not hidden by rosy curls, shining like a treasure. 

“I look like a girl made of jewels.” she thinks and her lips break into a smile. 

The ladies smile back. “Good.” She’s dressed swiftly and before she knows it they’re gone and she’s sitting again in the red bedroom where she’d been fitted for gowns. It’s a bedroom again--and she wriggles in the chair, delighted with the feel of her smooth skin, feeling herself grow slick with pleasure. She can feel everything--the silk of her chemise almost feels rough.

She can’t wait for Ser to see.


	3. Prepare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A test.
> 
> A secret.
> 
> Before sunset.

Sansa is sitting on her scarlet cushion, practically bouncing, when Ser Jaime returns, smiling at her as he walks in. His green eyes sparkle, the afternoon light makes his hair gleam like hammered gold.

“Did my sweetling enjoy her day?” he murmurs, curling down next to her. “The ladies treat you well?” Sansa grins. Her Ser takes a hand and presses her back to the cushion, Sansa on her back as he forcefully rolls up her skirt, raspberry brocade swirling around her hips, her hair in a rosy cloud around her head.

“Ah.” he smiles, running a fingertip over her bare mound, caressing, Sansa feeling the tracery tingle sweetly, her lips grow slick. “Very pretty-such a sweet rose.” He grips her hands between his. “Little sister’s so very lovely--look at the pretty bits I couldn’t see as well before.” Sansa wriggles, trying to hide from his probing fingers. “Mind.” he growls. “Naughty cub. Spread your legs and don’t dare move.” Sansa leaves her hands up and still, feeling her Ser’s fingers caress her newly sensitized cunt. “Look at that.” he murmurs. “So round, your lips inside are so bright and lovely--and do you ever stop being wet, dirty girl?” He chuckles, tracing a finger around the outside of her entrance. “I hope you never do.” Sansa lifts her hips to him, softly whimpering. “Ah.Ah.” he murmurs. “Be still. Or else.” His fingertip barely brushes her inner walls and Sansa whimpers. “So pretty.” he purrs. “All these lovely curves--and a perfect new place for me to spank.” His hand comes down hard on Sansa’s mound and she squeals, Ser Jaime admiring the red mark on her pale skin.

“Isn’t that lovely?” He rakes his fingernails across the reddened, tender skin, Sansa, groaning at the sharp scrape and heat. “Don’t move or you’re sleeping in my laundry.” Ser Jaime laughs, then turns his fingers to brushing against her very visible pearl. He dips his golden head to taste, brushing his tongue across her pearl, slow and thorough. Sansa moans as his fingers move back slowly, just the way she likes. She’s gasping, crying “Please, please...” at this agonizing delight.

Ser Jaime is suddenly pressing her down, his whole weight on her, pinning her to her cushion.  
“Please, who?” he growls. Sansa’s suddenly silent. He has a slow, wicked smile. “I think tonight we’re going to do something my dirty girl wants. Wants so much it hurts, wants so much she whispers it in my ear when my cock’s sunk inside her.” 

He whispers burningly into her ear. “And it makes me come so hard you drain me dry. Something she can’t say right now--but I’ll make you scream it.” He snarls, unhanding her. “You know how to prepare. Let no one see you and be back at sunset.” He pauses. “And you’d best be a good girl. I’ll know.” Sansa jumps up and starts to scramble out the door. “Little cub?” Ser Jaime calls as Sansa pauses in the doorway.

“You may not.” Her Ser grins slowly, leisurely, paces over to his favorite chair to wait.. Sansa bites her lip in frustration and hurries off-sunset isn’t far away.


	4. Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Degenerate.
> 
> Lawless.
> 
> Companions.

Sansa waits quietly, the sun creeping low outside. She’s forgotten how rough the slate-colored fabric felt, that it’s heavy and hot, how tight the high neckline is, that it’s harder to breathe.  
(She had to go to her very last trunk. It’s her last grey dress.) She reaches around the collar, strokes her neck to scratch, then feels her fingers start stroking, thinking of her Ser’s heavy, strong ones. Sansa starts to relax, enjoy the pleasure of her own fingertips on the her skin instead of scratchy grey wool and homespun.

The door slams open. Ser Jaime prowls in, eyes wild and green, scent heavy with sweat, the dirt of the field, scratches sticky with blood on his upper arm. Sansa trembles with excitement, delicious quivers of fear. He prowls closer eyes jade-bright , hair matted in gold coils with sweat and dirt. “He’s looking at me like I’m delicious.” thinks Sansa and shivers in delight and fear.

Ser Jaime looks at her sternly.

“This doesn’t look one bit like praying, little girl.”

Quick as a knife-thrust, he’s at her side, wrapping her scarlet hair around his hand pulling her head back to whisper hotly into her ear.

“Tell me true, sweetling. Are you thinking of me?” Sansa gasps. “That’s yes.”

Ser bares his teeth at her. “On your back. Slut.” Sansa flings herself on her pillow, shaking like a frightened rabbit, the blood whirling in her veins, swirling in her ears so all she can hear is the sea inside her.  
And Ser.

Ser comes closer, leaning over her, his voice all menace and honey.

“I didn’t say on the pillow, did I? Floor’s good enough for a dirty girl like you.” Sansa scrambles onto the rug. Ser Jaime flings up her dress so fast she’s buried in a wave of cloth, all she can see is grey homespun. As she peeks out, she feels two of Ser’s fingers slide into her. Sansa yowls because they scratch and squeezes back because they feel good, so rough, thrusts her hips back to welcome him.

“Just as I thought.” he snarls. “Wet.”

 

“Little slut.” he growls. “So this is how you behave while I’m away fighting for you. Stroking along your pretty neck. Dripping. Not like a little lady at all.” Sansa’s face is frightened but her eyes are sparkling, her hips rolling as Ser Jaime straddles her, pinning her hands down, his face close to hers. 

His eyes are deep green waves and his breath is warm on her, inches from her lips. All she can smell is him; dirt, metal, musk, his own spice and honey that’s intoxicated her for so long, all she can see is the deep drowning green of his eyes. 

“Or did a certain little princess miss me?” her Ser growls. “So much that she’s soaked the minute I come in?” He looks into her eyes, growling, whispering, his teeth a white knife. Sansa looks back, heart beating, wriggles her hips cautiously, her heart beating in her throat as Ser Jaime stares, looking at her. He smiles wickedly. 

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” he whispers, gripping her wrists tighter.

(there will be bruises there. like bracelets. amethyst.)

“That’s not how you’re supposed to greet a man like me. Is it?” Ser Jaime purrs. Sansa can’t help herself but nods. He grips her wrists tighter.  
“Perhaps your sweet little cunt shouldn’t drip for me at all...wouldn’t it be...wrong if it did? Very, very wrong?”

Sansa moans, her body fired, her thighs already slick. Ser Jaime pins her to the floor, his breeches rough against her bare mound.  
Sansa yelps and Ser Jaime swivels his hips, grinding at her.  
”The gods have sent me such a wicked girl---perhaps I should have you locked away. So you can’t tempt me.”He growls. “So you can’t make me so very hard.”

Sansa groans from a place so deep inside her she doesn’t have words for it, feels her back arch as she presses against his cock and spills for the first time, silver trails of fluid spilling onto her bare thighs. Ser Jaime rumbles low in his throat, whispering hotter, sharper.

“Or is that so I can’t tempt you? Hmmm? Does my little girl want to be locked in a cold, lonely keep?”

Sansa’s eyes are huge, her body shivering softly.

Ser Jaime looks at her gently, one hand holding her wrists, the other caressing her cheekbone, moving to stroke his thumb over her lips. With a curious look in his eye, he slides the tip of his thumb between her lips, feeling them part as she takes him in, sucks. Sansa’s eyes open wide like she’s tasting him for the first time, giving him tiny flicks of her tongue, tasting the salt of his sweat, sucking at his thumb teasingly as he smiles.  
“Hmmm.” he whispers. “I like tempting. There’s things I’d rather do with you than put you in a vault.” Sansa pants, sweat dampening her garnet hair. Ser Jaime grins fiercely.

“If the gods cared about that, they wouldn’t have made you such a delicious girl, so sweet and willing, one who cries so prettily and kisses so sweetly...Would they?” He purrs. “The gods wouldn’t have made me...and you....”

Sansa’s mouth is dry.  
“Are you going to pray?” he purrs. “To make it stop, my pious little dove? Ask all the gods and every tree you can think of to ease this burning in your tight little cunt? Beg forgiveness?”

He smiles, running a fingernail along her cheekbone.

“But you don’t want to.”

He growls.

“You like craving your Daddy’s cock.”

Sansa’s mouth is dry, her voice barely working. “Yes.” Ser Jaime whispers. “Yes. That’s right. You know it. I know it. ” He slides his knee between her legs, whispering hotly in her ear as she rubs against him, sighting softly, starting to arch her back, strain.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, bad girl?”

“Yes. Yes.” whispers Sansa. “Yes, Ser.” dizzy and gasping.

He stares. “Yes, who?”, snarling at her, his breath hot on her cheek.

“You fingered your pretty little pearl till it hurt thinking of me, didn’t you?”

Sansa squirms, trying to reach her Ser’s face with the tip of her tongue, stretching, failing and only able to wriggle, not touch.

“When Septa made you pray for my safety did it make my good little girl all hot inside, all sticky and sweet? Thinking of her daddy coming home after fighting for her?” He whispers hot in her ear “...being inside her, filling her up all nice and hot just like she wants?”

“Tell me something.” Ser growls. “If the gods don’t want it, why are they making you so wet? Making me so hard for my princess...”

Sansa can only form the word with her lips, not say it yet, repeating it like a prayer.

“I know you better than you know yourself little girl.” he whispers.  
“A little lioness needs a big, strong lion--no one else. Only the strongest, bravest and most beautiful animal of them all.”  
“A wolf can’t give her what she needs.”  
He pauses, listens to Sansa’s shuddering breath.  
“A wolf can’t love her the way she needs to be loved.”  
She’s already rubbing at his knee again, right where he’s spreading her, wetting his breeches. Ser Jaime grinds just enough to make her squeal, then purr.

“Only a lion can give his little lioness just what she craves.You know that.”  
He rubs his cheek against hers, scratching at her soft skin, the scent of dirt and blood and sweat and Sansa’s dizzied.  
“So do I.”

He whispers, his other hand at her throat. “Is your little cunt sore from those busy fingers? The only god you’ve been crying out for is your daddy-and he’s the only one you ever will cry for.“ Ser Jaime purrs. “That’s right.” Sansa arches her hips, gasping, “...yes ,yes.”

Sansa’s eyes flicker, her breath roughens. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Ser Jaime snarls, “If you come now, you will regret it.” He grins sharply. “And I promise it will hurt you worse than it will hurt me. My rules.” Ser Jaime pauses. “Wait. Daddy’s rules.” Sansa shudders, yelping softly, dripping against him.

Blatantly, Ser Jaime runs his hands over her breasts,feeling her nipples hard even under the thick cloth. He whispers to her “I should have fathered you.”  
She’s too overcome to do anything but smile as tears flow, nod yes, yes. She breathes.  
“Blood of my blood.” she murmurs, caressing his hand back, feeling her Ser’s hand tremble as he looks in her eyes. “Yes.”

He steadies his hand, cups her face. “You’ve always been mine.” He strokes her cheek. “My daughter. My Lannister princess.” Ser Jaime brushes her lips softly with a kiss, barely breathing the next words, loud as a scream.  
“Never Ned Stark’s. Only mine. My true little girl.”  
Sansa leans up to kiss, their tongues shamelessly entwining. 

“Always mine--then. Now. Always.” he whispers, breaking the kiss, watching the blood rise in her cheeks, watching her chest rise and fall.

He smiles. “Let’s see how pretty my sweet girl is. I know you want your Daddy to see.”

Sansa trembles, bucking her hips as Ser Jaime rips at her gown, leaving only the high collar around her neck, the rest shredded across the middle, exposing her body; breasts to belly to the smooth pale curve of her mound. He can see she’s already dripped onto the dress, leaving it dark grey underneath (and he’s so bone hard he wants to slide into her right now but not yet.)

“Breathe.” he murmurs. “Listen to me.”  
“I know you don’t care what any gods, any trees, any men have to say to you.” he growls, loosening his breeches, slowly rubbing the head of his cock against her damp petals, so close she’s almost in tears from want. “So wet. So dirty. “

“Ned told you you were too old to sit on his lap, didn’t he?” Sansa moans.

“You’ll never be too old to sit on my lap. There’s lots of ways for my big girl to sit on my lap.” He laughs, watching Sansa blush and writhe. “You know you’re just making me harder, my sweet Sansa girl.”  
He holds, her down, watches.

“I’m not locking you away from me. I’ll chain you to my bed, lock you up like my treasure, but you’ll be right with me, little love. Daddy’s girl.” Sansa sobs and purrs at the same time, almost completely undone.

 

Sansa twitches, tries to slide down on his cock, but her Ser’s too quick for her. “Naughty.” he growls, making sure he’s just out of reach so his little girl can only whimper, thrust at the air.”Please.” she moans. 

“Not till you say it, little girl. You want me in you. You know it. I know it. Your cunt’s so wet, naughty girl. And your Daddy’s right here.” He grins, sharp and bright, watching her. Not moving. Not yet.

Sansa’s head swims, her blood burns. “Damn..damn them all. Every one. Every god. Every man.”, her cunt dripping, her nipples hard and pink, her pale skin blushed, her face red, traced with saliva and tears. 

She looks into her Ser’s eyes, her steel blue eyes like blades boring into his, breathes in.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Daddy.” she chokes out in a whisper ending in a cry. 

Ser Jaime moves one hand down. rubbing the pad of his thumb on her pearl, feeling her arch her back, hearing her groan as he bites hard at her ear. “Louder.” he snarls.“Beg for me. Say what you want and you’ll get my cock in you. Everywhere.”  
Sansa howls.

“Godsdamn them. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck me. Now.” Tears run down her face, her breath coming in hard gasps, her hips thrusting at the air.

Ser Jaime smiles wickedly.  
“I could never deny my little Lannister girl anything she wanted.” Sansa growls, moans beyond words, trying to reach him.

“Spread.”

With one fierce thrust, he’s inside her, not gentle at all, Sansa crying out with joy. “Oh, that’s what my girl wants. Saved that for me, didn’t you?. “ He bites her on the shoulder, worrying her flesh, leaving a half-moon of teeth marks as Sansa screams, gripping around his cock. 

He lets go of her hands. “Show Daddy how tight you can hold on.” he grins, sharp and white, Sansa’s fingers already clawing down his back as he growls in delight. “Yesss, that’s my slutty girl.” he hisses in her ear “my whore princess, my perfect daughter. All mine.” Sansa’s legs are gripping him so tight he’s going to bruise and oh Ser Jaime likes that.  
“Damn them all.” he growls. “You were meant to be my little girl--none of them not one god, not one man could keep us apart. None ever will. “He bites up her arm to her neck, hard, making her scream, feels her draw blood on his back.  
“Couldn’t deny you your daddy’s cock, couldn’t deny me from bruising my little girl inside so she knows she’s all mine, all mine. “ He purrs in her ear, Sansa gasping and bucking. 

“Baby loves it when Daddy hurts her. “ 

One hard thrust and she yowls again, somewhere beyond pain and pleasure, staring into his eyes, whispering “yes, yes.” her cunt clenching him like a slick fist. 

“Hands up.”  
Ser Jaime moves one hand, stroking the hot, wet place where they’re joined, bringing his fingers up. Sansa opens her mouth to suck, tasting their fluids, taking his fingers in her throat as he fucks harder, groans low in his throat.

“Does my little girl want to come?” Ser Jaime growls, gritting his own teeth to hold out just a bit longer. Sansa nods He slides out his fingers as she tries to nip at them.  
“Three good, hard strokes for Daddy----then I’m going to play with that little pearl and your hot little cunt till you spill all over those rags. Mine. My good girl. Daddy loves you just like this, crying out for my cock. “  
He covers her mouth in a long kiss.  
He hears, feels her scream with the first slam of his cock into her, tastes threads of her blood during the second as he kisses, snaps and snarls as she bites his lip so hard it bleeds during the last brutal stroke.He’s left his mark, she’s left hers  
(and his cub’s so beautiful with his blood on her teeth.)

Then all there is is fucking. It only seems like seconds till she screams, he has to put his hand over her mouth, feel her screams shake it, her bite at his fingers. His girl floods the floor below her like everything in her’s pouring out at once, as she’s crying “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy”, her lips parted, eyes glazed with lust and pleasure...

(her tongue’s so pink and sweet, his blood so red on her teeth he can’t resist.)

“Open. Now.”” He snarls, pulls out and with a few hard strokes of his hand, spatters her tongue and her mouth with his seed, thick strands white in her red hair, on her cheek, her pink lips. Ser Jaime groans, moving his hand to let the last few drops fall pearl-pale on her cheek, moving to lean close to her, nearly coming again at the tracery of pearl and blood on her lips. Ser shudders, draws breath, then speaks.

“What do you say...” he whispers “...when Daddy gives you something nice?”

Sansa’s eyes fix his, bright blue, moving her lips and tongue, savoring his seed, the copper traces of their own blood red on her white teeth. When she’s licked up every bit she smiles up at him, runs her rosy, pointed tongue over her lips.  
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her smile is so wicked Ser Jaime groans within, moves his fingers right back to her cunt.

“My little girl can come harder than that.” He growls, sliding in, his rough fingertips caressing the sensitive spot just on the inside of her cunt just how she loves it. “Show me how wet fucking your daddy makes you.” Ser Jaime grins, fingerfucking her, running over her inner roughness again and again, Sansa gasping “please Daddy please I can’t...”

“No.” states Ser Jaime. “You can. Daddy’s rules.” 

He smiles. “Daddy’s cunt.” He hooks against her inner wall, tugging softly as she shudders, gasping for breath. “You’re going to leave a puddle on the floor for your Daddy. Just like a bad puppy.” Sansa moans, squirming at his touch.

Ser Jaime grins, pinning her down, his fingers working in her cunt at the rough place he knows she loves, harder and harder. 

“But nicer. All wet from Daddy’s fingers.” Sansa’s eyes are huge, as she slides against him impaling herself, harsh gasps each time, frenzied.  
“Never keep anything from your Daddy. Everything of yours is mine, every drop, every one of your pretty holes is mine to fuck.”  
Sansa’s growling, panting, fucking back, squeezing his fingers tight, so tight.

Ser Jaime fixes her gaze, his eyes like green ice holding her.  
”My wicked daughter’s holding back.” He snarls. “You can do it,my beautiful, sluttish little girl .”  
Sansa howls, spattering his fingertips with the first few drops “Oh, there you go, Somebody loves her daddy inside her, doesn’t she?”

(she’s clenching him so hard it feels like his fingers might snap.)

“Daddy’s girl, all mine” he growls. “Perhaps I’ll have to show some of my friends my little slut’s naughty trick, you’ll spread for anything Daddy wants in you.”

Sansa screams, fluid pouring out of her cunt, soaking the grey rags to dark slate, thrusting at the air mewling, then another scream-Ser Jaime’s hand is soaked and his little girl is lying in a puddle, gasping like she’s drowning. Ser Jaime rubs her own juices over her face, licking and kissing them from her lips as her tongue flicks at his fingertips, smearing his hands in her hair.  
“See? I knew you could, sweetling.”

Ser moves his hand down, Sansa trying to wriggle away. “No, bad girl. One more for me-because i know everything. Every wicked thought you have.” Sansa’s eyes brighten again because he can’t, he can’t...

Ser Jaime bites at her ear, starts to whisper as he rubs, sliding down her body:

“Perhaps I’ll give you to Daddy Tywin for a little while. Only to show him how good my little daughter is.” He hisses “Because I know you like making daddies very happy, don’t you? I already know it would make my little girl so wet to feel the cock that made me in her tight little cunt. You can’t lie to Daddy.” He whispers “...and I love how bad you are.”

Sansa yelps and howls, tears of pleasure and shame pouring down her face, slick and wet, Ser Jaime digging his nails into one of her nipples to make her howl.

Sansa’s body is all blush and fire, hair clinging to her face as she arches her back and it feels so good that it hurts and she can barely hold on...

He dips his head to nibble and suck at her pearl, gripping hard at her hips, his nails leaving red, bloody crescent as she writhes, hissing “Whore.” before biting on her pearl. Even with her thighs gripping his ears he hears her scream “Daddy.”,feels her spill again and again, her grip round his ears finally loosening.

It’s then that Sansa shudders for the last time, her eyes rolling in her head till she’s finally still, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

Her Ser reflects that yes, she did scream it and that he was right. Of course.

Ser Jaime lifts his head, golden hair matted with sweat, mouth and face glazed with his girl’s fluids. “Delicious.” He stares at her, slowly licking his lips, then kissing her again, both of them sticky, exhausted. Ser strokes her hair. “Good girl. My good girl.” Sansa’s eyes flutter as her lips form “My Daddy.”

“Yes.” purrs Ser Jaime. “Your Daddy. Your brother. All men in the world to you.” He strokes her breasts, gently along her neck. “My precious daughter, my filthy princess of a sister, my slave, all the sweetest girls in the world to me. “ 

Sansa leans up to kiss him, her hands tangling in his golden hair. He growls, rubbing his head against hers as she rubs back, only able to nuzzle and hold on. 

He strokes her red hair, untangling the ends, enjoying the stickiness, pausing to lick his fingers. “Going to tell you a secret, little love.” He feels her nod against his chest.

Ser Jaime whispers. “I fuck my sister. Because I love her. Because I love it. 

I fuck my little red sister too. Because I love her and because I love it.  
“Don’t give a damn about anything else-but know this, I will never be sorry for anything I do.  
They can say all they want, but I intend to travel round all the seven hells before I die. I. Owe. Them. Nothing.”  
He snarls.  
Sansa finally looks up, her eyes bright with awe, arousal, delight, smiling sweetly as a little girl.  
He cradles her close, rocking her. “We’re going to all seven hells, little love.”  
Sansa grins, her rosy tongue licking at his chest. “Promise, Daddy?”

“Yes.” he murmurs. “And we’re going to get our Lady.” He grins, stroking her hair.

“And then, little girl...  
you can think about all the ways we can damn you and love you again and again and again. Till we all burn together.“ 

Ser Jaime brushes his lips across her forehead. 

“Perfect.” she whispers. “My Daddy, my brother, my love. Wouldn’t want to be in any heaven without you or Lady.”

“My little girl.” he snuggles her. “Always.” 

He scoops her up into bed, leaving the last sticky rags of Winterfell on the floor. 

“Before anything else.” he whispers. “you’re going to thank me again. Come here...” he purrs ”...my precious Sansa Lannister...and show me just how grateful you are.” He smiles.  
“Haven’t decided what I want most yet.”--he grins--”...and Daddy hasn’t even gotten to spill in your pretty cunt yet because somebody got him so excited.” 

Ser grips the hair at the back of her neck.  
“Open your mouth like a good girl while I consider.”

Sansa looks up, her eyes blue as steel, sparking with wickedness. “Then what, Daddy?”  
“We’ll eat, dirty girl. You’ll need it and so will I. “ He grins. Can’t go to hell without a good meal.”

“Then what?”

Ser Jaime cuffs her on the arm, smiling, watching her eyes sparkle mischievously.

“Lemon cakes. If you sit on my lap I might give you a few bites.” Ser Jaime grins. “I haven’t made you do naughty things to get treats from Daddy yet. “ 

Sansa squeals, grabbing at his arm. “Mmmm. You like that too. Good.”  
“But there won’t be any treats if you don’t open your mouth right now.”

“Daddy’s girl has treats too.” coos Sansa, her eyes flashing sapphire.

“Does she?” purrs Ser Jaime. “Show me.” Sansa runs her fingernails over his chest, sliding down, her hair hellfire bright on his skin.


	5. Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good meals.
> 
> Good girls.
> 
> Good daddies.

Sansa makes a petulant face, biting her lip. Her Ser looks at her, his eyes both sharp and amused, though he’s firm.  
“We have meal, then playtime. Someone’s going to be a very upset little girl if she doesn’t eat--because she’ll be hungry...” he lowers his voice “...and Daddy will have to take care of himself. No helping.” Sansa’s face falls.   
Ser Jaime bites back a grin. “There are rules, little girl. Even for my princess. Especially for my princess. Little girls need discipline-and to eat.”   
Sansa admires the chicken with dates, the carafe of ruby wine, bread stuffed with raisins and orange peel, finds that she’s hungry and finds herself able to smile.  
Ser Jaime smiles. “See?” He purrs, his head haloed golden in the candlelight. “I know what’s best for my princess.”  
Ser notices a dish and can’t resist; taking a firm spear of roast asparagus he presses it to her lips. “Here.” he grins, the candlelight scattering sparks of golden light into his hair. 

“Make Daddy proud.”

Sansa looks up with shimmering blue eyes, sparks dancing in her garnet hair. Her hands folded like a lady’s, she starts by licking at the tip, her tongue dancing over the green leaflets. Then, keeping her eyes locked on his, she slides her pink tongue around the spear, flicking off tiny bits of rock salt and pepper, taking a moment to roll and savor them on her tongue, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. Then she tilts her head to take the green stalk deep, savoring it, soft tongue flicks and gentle caresses with her lips, taking nibble after tiny nibble till it’s gone, then swirling her tongue over Ser Jaime’s fingertips, tasting oil, musk, her Ser’s own taste and scent of honey and spices, licking till each one is clean.

Then she opens her eyes wide, looks up into the deep green of his.

“Am I doing it right, Daddy?”

Ser Jaime shifts in his seat thinking his game worked too well. He’s uncomfortable; must focus on eating instead of the sudden hardness his girl has induced. He’ll punish her for it later.

Sansa tilts her head into her hair to hide her tiny smirk, her rosy mouth for a moment the image of her Ser’s. She knows that good girls don’t make such faces, smoothes it back to a smile. Ser raises his goblet to her mouth and she drinks a dainty little sip, the Arbor wine staining her lips red as if they’ve been bitten and kissed.

“Well. You’re going to tell me where my wicked little daughter learned such things.” 

Ser Jaime laughs. “But first you’re going to eat. No ifs, ands or buts--Daddy knows best. Open.” She does, slipping out her pointed pink tongue for a bite of chicken and date from her Daddy’s fingers, prepared to eat and restore herself.

Because she doesn’t want to miss a minute of playtime.  
He doesn’t either.

“My good girl.” her Ser whispers. “More now.” Then there is sweetness and silence as he feeds his little girl bite by bite, her kissing each fingertip with love and devotion as she eats. The candles flicker, their honeyed light pouring over the golden lion and his ruby cub, pausing for a moment before it’s time to play again.


	6. Perchance to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warmth.
> 
> Lust.
> 
> Happy dreams of Hell and Home.

Sansa’s mind still glows softly from the pleasure of the evening. She delights in the sweet pleasure of her warm full belly, the heat of the fire. Sansa lies on the rug next to her Ser, both of them watching the fireplace, the dancing flames; he’s bathed her with honey and sage soap, put her in a clean nightdress and now here she is, his hand on her head, his pet, his little girl.  
(Sansa tingles inside to think of what’s happened. Her Daddy; something she’d only groaned before when her Ser was inside her, his weight heavy on her but he’d listened and then...Sansa squirms, wriggling her toes to try and stretch out the pleasure. She looks up as Ser Jaime watches the fire, its luminous reds and oranges flickering over his skin and hair, making him shimmer as if it is actually gold. (She lets herself slide into a dream; _soft, furry, chasing her tail on a veldt of heated sand. Suddenly, a growl, a nuzzle, mane golden and bright as the sun. She taps at his nose with her paw,he blinks topaz eyes and swift as lightning, she feels herself scruffed, lifted up in his sharp teeth, carried off, held tight but carried warm and safe_.)

Sansa lies on her back, lifting up her hands like paws, smiling cheekily waiting for her Ser to notice.  
Ser Jaime gazes into the fire, aware that his little red sister is trying to get his attention. He waits, watching her stir, listening to her soft, sweet little noises. He breathes in the smoke of the fire, the warm beeswax of the candles. Ser Jaime smiles, takes one of his riding gloves from the arm of the chair, dangles it between her hands.

“I’ve got a little cub, haven’t I? “ Sansa growls and bats at the leather. Ser Jaime slips to the floor to shake it towards her mouth, Sansa lunges up and bites, catching two of the fingers between her lips, shaking it in pride. “Clever girl.” Ser Jaime tugs at his glove, hie eyes sparkling jade in the warm light, pulling as Sansa tugs back. “Give. Be a good girl before you bite right through.” Sansa releases her hold, growling softly, Ser Jaime ruffling her hair. “Can’t have my sweetest little cub getting overexcited before bed--but you’ll have time to chase toys and pounce, I promise. Have to teach my little lioness.” Ser Jaime rubs Sansa’s belly tenderly, then scoops her up, nipping at her ear.

“Little red sweetling.” he purrs. “My sister.” Ser Jaime leans in for a long slow kiss, her tongue twining with his. “Daddy’s very own princess.” Sansa’s sigh drops throaty and sweet, her eyes huge. “That’s right. Just the way my naughty girl wants it.”

Ser Jaime pulls the covers up to her chin. “Bedtime. We can’t go to hell if you don’t get plenty of rest.” He reaches over to the clothespress, lifts something out and suddenly Sansa is wrapped in the whiteness of cream, of clean snow. Ser Jaime nuzzles her, then climbs in, holding her close. Sansa sighs sweetly, nuzzling like a happy little animal and Ser Jaime feels he could melt from all that warmth, the fire that forges such devotion.

(Ser Jaime has nothing to say to the gods, but he feels gratitude that all that is his and Cersei's too. Their girl. His girl. Always.)

“Think about this for your dreams.” he whispers. “Before we go, we need to get you hmmm...four silk masks, a new waist chain, a pretty red leather collar..” Sansa looks worried and Ser Jaime toys with her hair till she’s calm again.”I know you love your chain, but you’ll wear that at the Rock. Not a good idea to have that much gold on when we’re traveling. “ he chuckles “...even though you deserve it and I’ll drape you in gold again and again.” Ser Jaime pauses, his eyes twinkling a wicked luminous green, watching Sansa’s face as he speaks. “I’ll cover you in pearls every chance I get, naughty girl.” Sansa blushes, giggles and snuggles closer, kissing at his arm as he places it over her. 

“Squire’s oufit. And the naughtiest, sheerest of dancing girl dresses...and all kinds of interesting round, knobby, slippery things for a dirty little cub. A nice tawse for me...and the rest, surprises. No peeking or pestering, little girl.” Ser Jaime hugs her closer, feeling her smooth curves stir him, feels himself harden against her. 

He’ll need to rest too. Ser Jaime resolves to tend to that issue in the morning.

“We’re going on an adventure, Ser.” Sansa grins in the half-dark. “We are.” Ser Jaime murmurs. “We’re going all the way to Hell...and we’re going home. Our way.”

“Good.” whispers Sansa and with a kiss and whispers she’s asleep, tucked in her Ser, her Daddy’s arms. Ser Jaime wants to think about routes, where to find the lowest taverns of all and determine if he can keep his girl chained up and riding at the same time, but breathing in the scent of her hair he drifts off too, clutching his cub, both warm and safe, dreaming of their road to Hell.


	7. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day begins.
> 
> Lessons to come.
> 
> On the prowl.

Sansa uncurls slowly, like a kitten, yawning wide and pink, stretching her back and arms and fingers, clenching and unclenching them like she does when she’s intensely pleasured. Right now it’s the sunlight and the warm bed and...Daddy?

She opens her eyes, looks around, sees him at the table with a tray. Ser Jaime gleams golden in the sunlight as he scoops items onto the tray, adds spoons and a mug of mulled cider. Sansa doesn’t mind looking at this view of him at all; strong curves of arms, large yet delicate fingers, ripples of muscle, ribbons of pale scars--Sansa’s eyes linger, delighted on his hips and ass, the way the sunbeams and shadows play off them.  
Sansa likes it, rolls her hips a little to make the feeling last longer. With each hip twitch, she slowly remembers last night and she can’t help but purr, closing her eyes to intensify the sweetness. She moves a hand lower to rock against it, feeling the pleasure like warm honey in her veins. Sansa sighs a deep sigh, tiny brushstrokes of a finger on her pearl because there doesn’t need to be much to tip it just over the edge...

She hears a clink, then feels a hand on her head. “You can do that soon, my naughty girl.”  
Hearing his warm laugh Sansa opens her eyes, flushed warm, joyful at the sight of her Ser in bed with a tray.  
He’s nude, his ivory face stippled with tiny golden hairs. Sansa likes that; she loves Ser Jaime clean-shaven, smooth as bone but this is something that only she and her Lady get to see. She leans over impulsively to kiss him on the cheek, enjoying the roughness on her own delicate face. Ser Jaime sighs in pleasure, running his large, rough fingers through her hair.  
“You kiss so nicely, little love.”  
Sansa purrs back, rubbing wherever she can reach; the sweetness is such that she can’t even use words, just rub and kiss and curl and uncurl her toes. There’s only one word she can form, that she pours into his ear like a prayer:  
“Daddy.”

She feels Ser Jaime quiver and reach around her to hold her tight, kissing her forehead and her ruby hair. “That’s right. My little girl. Daddy’s girl.”

Sansa lifts her lips and Ser Jaime kisses her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, welcome and pleasurable; Sansa’s pretty pink tongue swirls against his slow and sweet.

Ser Jaime breaks the kiss, then tugs her earlobe to make her laugh. “Come now. You need to be good for Daddy.”

Ser reaches over to the tray, hands her a warm bowl of oats with dried berries and a sprinkle of salt. Sansa tries to cuddle, but Ser Jaime pauses her.  
“My little girl needs to eat and be strong.”

He taps her on the nose with the wrought iron spoon. “You need to eat everything and do as you’re told. Won’t have anyone saying my little cub’s willful.” Ser Jaime looks at Sansa, drinking her in like sunlight. 

He takes a long swallow of his small beer to watch her chew and swallow her porridge, savor berries, delight in a tiny river of honey hidden in the center.

(Ser Jaime purrs on the inside seeing that; he told her good girls got treats.) Seeing as she’s eaten most of the bowl, Ser Jaime relents and lets his little girl tuck under his arm to finish the rest. 

He’s only a tiny bit frustrated that he can’t reach his own breakfast. However, there are ways around that.

“Peel Daddy an egg, sweetling.” Ser Jaime feels a quiver under his shoulder. “Oh, you like that. Such a dear girl to help me. I’d starve otherwise.” Sansa grins, tapping the hard-boiled egg on the tray, her hair like flames in the morning sunlight. Everything seems brighter, more delicious; the taste of hops on his tongue, the soft sheets. Then Sansa lit as if by her own inner sun, blazing bright, intent; she bites her lip as she peels his egg, making sure there’s not a speck of shell to ruin it. 

Sansa presents it to her Ser with a guileless, warm, triumphant smile, as if she’s completed some marvelous task. He chuckles, moves his arm though Sansa looks sad.

“Daddy’s not going anywhere. I need to eat as well; we’ve lots to plan today.” Ser Jaime bites at his egg, then offers Sansa a nibble sheerly for the joy of having her eat from his hand. “Things have developed an interesting complication-now that I have a little girl to see to.” Sansa rubs her head against his shoulder, wordless and smiling.

“We’ll have to do extra filthy things now, won’t we? Have to break all the laws of gods and men, little love. That.” he punctuates with a kiss, a nip of her sharp little teeth at his tongue. “takes work.” Ser Jaime finishes his egg, picks up a slice of blood sausage to nibble as he thinks. His smile gleams as sharp and bright as when he puts his spurs to Honor. 

Gods, the things they’ll do on the way to the Rock. Taverns, fields, ditches--and the notion of a sept or two is enough to make Ser Jaime growl and reach for his little girl. Sansa flings her arms around his neck, fluttering her lashes against his cheek, daintily, good, the most delicate tender caress for a girl to give her Daddy.

Ser Jaime can’t help but chuckle, grabbing her at the waist. “Kiss me like the naughty girl I know you are. You can’t fool your Daddy, Sansa Lannister.” With that he feels her melt, pressing herself against him, kissing just as sweetly as he hoped for; a moment of shyness, then her lips on his, her pink tongue flickering at the inside of his lips before he lets her have a taste. As he opens his mouth to her Ser Jaime moves aside the tray so she can wrap her long, pale legs around him, feeling her grip round his hips, his cock stiffening with each kiss. 

They’re both flushed when they pause for breath. Ser Jaime leans forward, his hammered gold hair gleaming with each sunbeam. He pecks Sansa on the lips, rolls his own to savor them, tasting. Tasting.

“I know a little minx who’s stolen my bacon.” Sansa giggles like the naughty girl she is as Ser Jaime growls. 

(Sansa’s very seldom naughty, even worlds away from Winterfell. She laughs again inside at her Daddy’s sudden realization that his little girl had indeed made sure to have a good breakfast. His.)

Ser Jaime grins, then a quick flip and Sansa’s on her back, her Ser fierce over her like a lion over fresh prey. “Someone needs to remember who’s in charge. Hands and knees, little girl.” he snarls, shoving the tray to the floor to grab onto her hips, even as Sansa rolls them with her own wicked smile. “Girls who tease get taught lessons. Hard ones.” he growls, pressing her down to the bed even as Sansa’s spreading, opening to him. Ser Jaime grabs her tight, teeth over the sweet spot of her shoulder. “Naughty cub.” he snarls even as she brushes her wetness against the tip of his cock. 

Sansa wriggles, then is pinned in place by her Daddy’s weight, then the bliss of his teeth in her shoulder, his cock in her in one smooth, hard motion, forceful and lovely. She pushes back, hears a growl, holds in place to let him fuck as he likes, Ser Jaime roughly sliding in and out of her, Sansa’s only words gasps and mewlings, pantings of delight.

He’s all growl and snarl as he fucks her, his body moving smooth and hard, reminding his own little girl who runs this tiny pride and he thrusts again, gratified by her growl. She thrusts back, yelping, panting, overcome by his hard, driving rhythm, slick and wet, dripping onto her legs as she tightens around him, making soft yips and moans of delight like a little beast, pressed down into the bed as her Ser, her _Daddy_ fucks her, snapping her teeth at whatever of him she can reach, leaving her tiny marks as he fastens onto her neck, hips pumping harder and harder at Sansa’s soft yowls,

and because he’s in charge, he adjust his hips to slide hard against the spot she likes, to make his girl pay, spill all over the bed. Worrying her skin between his teeth, he fucks his tiny lioness, hard, harder feeling her tremble, squeeze so hard it’s almost like a soft hand on him, then

the littlest cub yelps, groans then howls in delight as she floods the bed, they’ll have to change the linens again

and that’s enough for him to bite hard enough, that she’ll need a shawl for a week, fuck fiercely as his little cub thrusts back arch back and pour himself into her, roaring in pleasure, feeling her come again as he fills her

_oh his dirty little girl_

then his weight’s on her pressing her down, his golden head to hers, licking tenderly at her ear, her bitten shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat the sweetness of her skin, her head nuzzling against him licking whatever she can reach even fingers.

Licking and tidying each other, they curl on the bed, belly to back, replete, the morning breeze drying their skin, closing their eyes to dream.

Ser Jaime’s first to wake, rubbing against Sansa to gently rouse her. 

“So. Does Daddy’s girl understand?” 

Sansa nods sleepily, pleased. “I’ll be good.” she whispers, yawning wide to show her own white teeth. “For you.” she grins.

“Good girl. My pride and joy.” 

Sansa turns to bury her face in the soft place in her Daddy’s shoulder; it’s where she can catch every bit of his scent, feel his skin, taste it. Ser Jaime embraces her, thinking.

“Cub. Red sister. Girl.” Sansa murmurs into his neck, then giggles. “Your little girl; my Ser, my brother, my lion...” then a long soft sigh “Daddy.” Ser Jaime rubs back, breathing in her own sweetness, salt of her skin, the delicate musk that always seems to cling to her.

She looks at him with eyes blue as a calm sea.

“We’re a lot, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Ser Jaime sighs, lying back and pulling Sansa close. “We are. If my little girl likes it.”; he nips at her ear, “I do, too.” Sansa nods so happily, her hair flies up in a russet plume tickling his face.

“So. My sweetest little Sansa.” His eyes are emerald, with the trace of wildfire that makes Sansa squirm. 

“Daddy wants to take you out tonight.”

He fixes her with a sharp stare.

“Someone wants to be my best little girl, doesn’t she?” Sansa shivers in joy.

“Daddy has plans.” Ser Jaime whispers hotly into her ear.

“You want to play with me, don’t you, little Sansa?”

Sansa wriggles against him. “Yes, Daddy, yes.” Ser Jaime can hear her panting again. “Always. Till we burn.” 

“Mmmm.” sighs Ser Jaime, snuggling her. “Well. My naughty girl’s going to need to be extra pretty and extra clever for Daddy tonight. Because-” Sansa wriggles with excitement and Ser Jaime grins.  
“I’m taking my little princess to hunt.”


	8. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa in the afternoon.  
> Memories.  
> All pleasures.

Sansa lies warm on her pillow, garnet hair fanned over her shoulders. She finds her dress and its lumpy folds dress confusing, off-putting. Sansa’s used to being nude as a little wolf-pup when she’s on the cushion.

Ser insisted. He woke her with breakfast, feeding her bite after bite of oats and honey, hard-boiled eggs. She'd stolen his bacon with a cheeky smile. (and she still sighs with delight as to his discipline. Sansa thinks she might steal bacon again. Just once or twice.) 

Then he had dressed her, choosing the dress, smoothing the summer sky-blue silk, over her head, adjusting the sleeves so they flowed just right.  
“My princess.” he’d whispered, kissing her forehead as Sansa quivered with joy.

After,Sansa sat at Ser Jaime’s feet as he brushed and braided her hair-- _girl’s braids_ , Sansa thought with a shiver of delight as he expertly wove in a gold ribbon. 

“There.” he said, admiring his handiwork. “Pretty as a picture.”  
“How did you learn?” Sansa laid her head on her Ser’s knee, eyes wide, mischievous smile.  
Ser Jaime looked at her, arching a brow over a emerald eye before winking at her.

“Oh? Is my sweet little girl playing a trick on me? “  
He laughed tenderly, wickedly.  
“I think somebody wants a few extra moments between my legs.”  
Sansa giggled.  
“Simple answer. Horses need braids too--and a squire, then a knight has to know how. You want a horse looking their best for a tourney. Everyone likes a bit extra there, a little flash. Or a lot, if you’re me. You’ve seen how pretty Glory’s mane braids up.”  
Ser Jaime grinned at Sansa’s puzzled eyes, her mouth not sure if she wanted to smile or not.  
“Now, now. You know you’re much nicer than a horse. Much, much nicer.”  
Sansa leaned into his touch, Ser Jaime stirred by the feel of her smile on his fingertips.

Ser Jaime dropped his voice to a growl. “But I like braiding my little girl’s hair best.” He took the end of the braids, wrapped them around his hand and tugged, Sansa moving back with it.  
“I know my little girl won’t kick me if I pull.” He tugged, bringing Sansa’s head closer to his thigh, Sansa’s breath hot and fast. “I think she might like it.You know some boys pull hair when they like a girl.” Sansa had squirmed and panted, her head moved this way, now that, like a puppet on string by her Ser’s hand on her braids.  
“I only do it when I know my girl likes it. And you do, don’t you?”  
His low, dark laughter made Sansa’s breath flutter in her chest, as she nodded yes, yes.  
“There’s other things I might like when I pull those. “  
Sansa gasped, having a few guesses.  
“But you can think about what they are and tell me later. You have Daddy’s permission to use the very naughtiest of words.”

Sansa growled, nuzzled at his thigh. “Naughty girl to tease me so. Stay while I finish-no more tricks now.”

Ser Jaime had kissed his fingertips, pressed them to her lips even as she silently ached for all or her morning kisses. Sansa watched as Ser Jaime finished dressing; simple but elegant linen shirt, the shimmering red surcoat that Sansa embroidered with gold-work. Her azure eyes followed intently-- _is this the hunt_?

Then she felt his hands and metal around her ankle. Ser Jaime grinned, his hair shining gold, sweet with scented oil, his well-tended gloves at his waist. "I have the most handsome Daddy." Sansa thought, feeling a shiver inside, a slickness between her legs.

(Sansa knows it’s wrong to think such things.  
Sansa grins inside and thinks them anyway.)

“Daddy’s going out for the day. And you’re going to do what the best girls do.” He stroked her cheek, down along her neck, lingered for a moment at her bosom. Around the pillow he’d already placed a few things; bread and cheese for lunch, blackberry juice, a bit of charcoal and parchment, a red and gold leather ball. Then he nestled her treasures close to her bosom; her red velvet, red cloaked doll of her Queen, then the doll’s twin, a knight in white with golden hair, bright green floss eyes and a tiny red silk star on the inside of his snowy cloak. 

He added a blanket, looked satisfied. “Can’t have my little treasure running off. Play like a good girl and enjoy yourself while I’m gone.” 

Now, lolling on her cushion, Sansa rolls over, squeezing her legs together, remembering what had followed:

Ser Jaime leaned in to admire, leisurely running a hand over his thigh, watching Sansa squirm as his fingertips edge closer.  
“See what you do to me, naughty little thing?” His voice lowered, his hip thrust.

“Does Daddy’s girl want something?”  
Sansa panted, sticking out her tongue as if she can reach him. Ser Jaime locked his eyes on her, moves his fingers blatantly over his cock, teasing it through the fabric, half-fucking his hand. Ser Jaime’s smile sharp and sweet, Sansa mesmerized even as he  
tossed something through the air; instinctively, Sansa lunged, her mouth open then snapping her jaws on a soft, caramel deerskin glove. She looked up, her eyes, big, grinning, shaking her prize in her mouth. Ser Jaime laughed deep in his chest, Sansa aching to feel the vibration of it against her cheek, while she’s still proud of her catch. “Very good. But prey doesn’t always come right to your pretty mouth, little cub.” Blowing a kiss he closed and locks the door, then the sound of his steps, his whistle of a merry tune down the hall.

And here she is--empty room, pillow, food. Toys. Sansa nuzzles against the pillow, the index finger of the glove in her teeth, nibbling gently. There are other ones for her to gnaw. She feels a rough, papery edge against her cheek, unpins the parchment and unrolls what she thinks she already knows, her little white fangs caught betwixt sigh and sparkle.

 _That’s my girl._  
_**Mine.**_

Sansa grins back at the underlined mine--and then she sees it.

_No, you may not._

_Ever yours, my wicked little girl,  
Daddy_

Sansa curls her lips into a very unladylike pout and watches with joy and frustration at the height of the sun in the sky.

Everything is calm and quiet; Sansa has nowhere she can go, nothing she has to do. After all, the chain only goes so far.  
Her mending basket is far in the corner, her embroidery with it; there are no letters to be transcribed and Ser Jaime has placed the laundry just out of reach so she can’t fold and put away.  
Sansa can’t remember having had time like this, quiet, sunlight, her company her own breath rising and falling.There were always dancing lessons and songs and high harp and bells and Septa and embroidery and staying out of the sun because she had to be perfect, just perfect.  
She had no straw men to hack at, but Sansa had been training since she was three. Or perhaps before, Sansa’s not sure. All she remembers is that the other children had their toys for longer, had other hours and no one cared if they played in the yards or browned in the sun.

Right now, Sansa isn’t sure what to do, but the sunbeams make it easy for her to decide. She wriggles on her scarlet cushion to push up higher, let the warmth make its way to her thighs as she nibbles gently on the caramel leather of the glove, like a little cub. Her sapphire eyes sparkle at the sheer bliss of it, the feel and taste of the leather on her tongue, the scent of her Ser, her Daddy filling her, the heat of the sun making her drowsy and happy.

(Ser’s liked to watch her play before; he’ll lay out the red and gold leather ball for her to pounce at, watch her eyes dart back and forth, her hips twist as she focuses, chases, catches, brings him the ball like a good girl, like a tiny lioness delivering a bird. He’s always proud, kissing her on the top of her head.

Sometimes it’s hard and she’ll sit there staring at the ball, strategizing, trying to think of the best way, what he’d like.  
Ser Jaime looks at her, gentle, yet firm.

‘You have to stop thinking. Just feel. Then do.”

When he says that, Sansa knows without being told that it’s what it’s like with him, being able to hear the song of swords in his blood. Sansa lengthens her body and crawls, twitching her hips, focusing only on the red and gold leather ball in his hands. When he teases, rolls the ball slowly, she’s sleek and on it, growling with pleasure, shaking it in her mouth, then turning and rolling to show her Ser her soft belly. Her eyes are joyous, her mind wordless, just the hunt, her prey and him.

“Very good girl. “ Ser whispered. Then he pats her head, strokes her cheek and both of them watch the fire until they can’t wait for Sansa’s squirming and Ser Jaime’s shortness of breath. That’s when he scoops her up, tossing her into bed as she laughs, growling as he tears off his clothing, comes crawling to her like a beautiful golden beast.

Oh yes, Ser loves to watch her play.)

She’s not wholly sure what to do without Ser there to watch, but then she remembers something from long ago.

“Why do we do this?” Ser Jaime had whispered.  
“For pleasure.” Sansa had whispered, her hair in damp garnet vines on his bare chest, her lips tasting of salt.  
“Exactly right. My clever girl.”  
Sansa had nuzzled her cheek against her Ser’s chest, drifting to sleep on the rise and fall of his breath, knowing that was pleasure too, understanding that his was to hold her safe and close, as much as biting and binding and fucking. The scent of their bodies and woodsmoke from the fire, the warmth, the sound of the candles hissing out, the elegant angle of Ser’s jawline, her pretty ivory hands on his chest, the taste of their sweat and kisses, all of it indivisible.

Sansa understands that she doesn’t have to be useful and that this is a gift, her play a pleasure. So she rolls up her dress to enjoy the sunbeams, sips blackberry juice, uses the charcoal to draw a lion with a tiny lioness bordered with leaves and vines. She presses her dolls together to make them kiss, then lets herself fall softly into sleep, warm in the gold of the sunlight, the ruby of her cushion.

After all, no beast hunts in the highest heat of the day. She won’t. Sansa will be a clever girl and rest. That’s how she falls asleep, clutching her dolls, dreaming of the evening when the first stars will twinkle in the violet sky over Blackwater Bay. Finest of all, her Daddy will be home. What happens after that she leaves so she can dream, be safe and rest sweetly in the hot afternoon, being her Daddy's very best girl.  
Just as they like it.  
And there’s the pleasure of the hunt to come.

**Author's Note:**

> “I don't want to go to heaven. None of my friends are there.”  
>  ― Oscar Wilde


End file.
